


Dance with me until I feel all right

by ghostbunny



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbunny/pseuds/ghostbunny
Summary: Hawke had made so many promises and he’d spoken them all with such certainty that Anders couldn’t keep himself from tossing aside everything past experience has taught him. Now it’s creeping back how they’ll never let them have this. They never do.Hawke and Anders attend a ball in Hightown. Anders worries what Hawke's new status as Champion (and the attention it's brought them both) means for their relationship.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Dance with me until I feel all right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Dance with me until I feel alright" (which works well enough for a title if you ask me).
> 
> Thank you for reading!

There is a man standing across the room who Anders barely recognises. He's dressed in fine silks, hair combed and beard neatly trimmed. Not a speck of grime or blood on him, not a stitch out of place. There’s a smile on his handsome face, his eyes bright with amusement that is familiar but out of place. It's Hawke but it doesn't look like the Hawke Anders knows. 

He could probably say the same about himself. A year ago he was living in a sewer. Tonight, in Hightown, a ball has been thrown to celebrate Kirkwall’s new Champion and Anders just walked in on the arm of the guest of honour. The thought of that alone terrifies him—has done for days. The reality of it has him keeping to the corners of the room, seeking shadows where he can only hope not to be noticed. But those shadows are few and far between and there are too many people in this room. It feels like only a matter of time before someone will question his right to be among them. He won't be able to argue; he knows he shouldn't be here. He doesn't even want to be here. But Hawke had asked. He'd wanted moral support. Now looking at him with his easy smile, blending seamlessly with the others of his rank, Anders wonders what support Hawke thinks an apostate could give. 

What is he doing here? What has he been doing in Hightown at all? It had seemed such a perfect solution when he'd had templars skulking outside his clinic and Hawke had invited him in and made him every promise Anders had never let himself dream of hearing. It's only been a few months since then. Anders has been living the life of a noble while people beneath them in Darktown starve or suffocate on air turned poison. Or in the Gallows it seems another mage is turned tranquil every day, while, up in Hightown, nobles attend their parties and clerics watch and refuse to intervene. 

And Hawke just looks too good up here among them. 

Anders should be doing something. But instead he's here, watching Hawke from a distance and feeling further away from him every moment he does. He’s beautiful. The brightest light in Kirkwall Anders had called him once and he still means it. But there are too many days when Anders struggles to know how that light can be meant for him. 

Up here he might be far from Darktown and the poison gases that frequently choke the air but he still feels as though he can’t breathe. The room is too full and between the people talking and the music playing it's too loud. His eyes dart to the first door he can spot and his feet follow close behind. 

It takes a little while to find a room that isn't occupied but when he does he closes the door behind him and tries finally to breathe. He can still hear the noises of the party, the music and the chatter, muffled through the walls but this quieter space will do. 

He takes some time to try to shake off the worst of the feeling that had come over him back in the main ballroom. Then, when he can manage it, he tries to distract himself by taking stock of the room around him. There is an ornate mirror hanging over a fireplace larger even than the ones Anders has become used to at the Hawke estate. He sees himself reflected in it. Much as he had with Hawke earlier, he tries to match up the image in front of him with the person inside. It’s still a jarring sight; his clothes are as fine as Hawke’s, his hair has become long enough to gather back into a neat braid, his face is clean shaven. The only giveaway that he’s not looking at the Anders of several years ago—back when he was far more in the habit of giving care to his appearance—is in the faint lines around his eyes, and the shadows there, which have deepened of late. He hasn’t been sleeping so well recently. Ever since Hawke beat the Arishok in single combat and saved the city, Anders doesn’t know how to relax under the attention it’s gained both of them. It doesn’t seem real that two mages could be allowed to live openly together outside of the Circle. Anders keeps waiting for the moment it will end. Turning up together to a party such as this feels too much like tempting fate. 

This isn't something mages are allowed to have. He’d always known it; he'd put off being honest about his feelings for Hawke for nearly three years partly for that reason. And then, for just a short amount of time, he'd let himself forget. He’d let his fears become swept away in the euphoria of knowing his feelings were returned. Hawke had made so many promises and he’d spoken them all with such certainty that Anders couldn’t keep himself from tossing aside everything past experience has taught him. Now it’s creeping back how they’ll never let them have this. They never do. They never will. 

No. No, they will. One day. Maybe not for him but one day. Things will change. He will make sure of it... 

Anders’ thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a soft click from the far side of the room. He whips his head around to face the opening door, already searching for an excuse for why he’d be in here alone. But when the door opens all the way he sees it's only Hawke. 

“Here you are. I was wondering where you'd disappeared to,” Hawke says, closing the door and then the distance between them. “Anders, are you alright?” 

Anders doesn't even know where to begin with answering that question. He opens his mouth without speaking and doesn’t know what face he's making but from the look of concern that crosses Hawke’s he doesn’t think it looks good. Hawke reaches out for him, brushing a hand across his face as though pushing back a strand of hair that Anders knows hasn’t fallen loose. His hands are warm, the heat and scent of him comforting and familiar. Anders can’t help but lean into it. 

“I didn’t know what happened to you. I was going to ask you to dance with me but when I turned around you were gone.” 

He wonders how long that must have taken, as immersed as Hawke had seemed in his conversation with some compte or other. “I'm surprised you noticed,” he mutters, causing Hawke to frown. “I’m sorry. I just... I shouldn't be here. I wish you hadn’t asked me to come.” 

Hawke drops his hand and Anders regrets the faintly wounded look he tries to hide behind dark furrowed eyebrows. “I just wanted you with me.” 

Anders feels like an ass for bringing it up but it's too late to backtrack now. All he can do is explain, “You didn't need me though. You said you wanted moral support but I don't see what use I am for that. You’re far more comfortable here than I am. You fit right in.” 

“Okay...” Hawke blinks slowly as he processes that. Anders knows he's said the wrong thing again even before Hawke says, “I feel as though there's an insult in there somewhere.” 

“No...” Anders sighs. “I didn't mean it like that.” 

Hawke looks at him steadily with eyes that see right through him. “I think you did. You’re obviously upset with me.” 

Is he? Anders thinks about it, trying to account for his terrible mood. He doesn’t think it began with the ball, or even with Hawke but Hawke bringing him here hadn’t helped. 

“Not with you,” Anders insists. “With them. With this entire city. Do you think they really want to see us together?” Anders hesitates for a moment then voices the fear he’s been wrestling with all night. Or, no, since the duel and Hawke being named Champion of the city. All eyes have been on them ever since and Anders sees no possibility of them liking what they see. “They’d tear us apart given the chance.” 

“I wouldn’t let them,” Hawke answers so firmly Anders almost believes him. “That's exactly what I'm trying to keep from happening.” 

“By going to their parties? By flaunting our relationship in front of all of Hightown?” 

“By getting them on our side! Wouldn’t it be far more useful to your cause to have allies with real influence?” 

That's not what Anders had expected him to say. He stumbles in his response, “They... they wouldn't though. They don't care.” 

“Then we make them care.” 

Anders frowns as he tries to get his head around that. “You're saying you did this for me?” 

“Should that be in any way surprising at this point? I love you, Anders. You know that.” 

Hawke’s eyes are round and fixed so intently on him Anders can’t help but be drawn in. He looks so earnest. And so hurt by Anders’ lack of faith in him. 

Anders steps closer. “I do,” he murmurs, pressing his face to Hawke’s chest. He hadn’t doubted that. It’s just that sometimes the fear of what he has to lose still chokes him. He takes a breath and feels Hawke’s arms fold around him. Being close to him has always made Anders feel impossibly safe. He breathes him in again and tries to bury himself in that feeling until he feels slightly more calm. 

For a long time, Hawke just holds him quietly until eventually he seems to sense that Anders has calmed. “Feeling better?” Anders nods without speaking and Hawke asks tentatively, “Perhaps we could have that dance now?” 

But Anders doesn’t think he can be that brave. He hears the sounds from the party, the music and voices float in through the walls and the last thing he wants to do is face it all again. He shakes his head. “I can’t. Not in front of all of them, Hawke.” 

He pulls back, just enough to see Hawke’s face, wondering if he’ll be annoyed or disappointed in his cowardice. But Hawke doesn’t bat an eyelid, smiling softly down at him. “Here, then? Where no one will see.” 

Anders gives him a doubtful look. 

“We don’t have to go anywhere until you feel up for it. But I think we both deserve to be able to go to a ball together and enjoy at least one dance. Just like any other couple. What do you say?” 

When Hawke looks at him like that, Anders can't bear to disappoint him. He nods and Hawke smiles wider. Then he guides Anders into some approximation of a proper dancing stance and grins. “It's probably just as well. I don't quite know what I'm doing. Balls were never a huge part of my upbringing in Ferelden, if you can believe it.” 

Anders doesn’t care, as Hawke holds him close and together they begin to move to the sound of far-off music. Uncertain, at first, but with growing confidence in the knowledge that no one is there to see them. 

“And here I thought your plan was to sway the nobles with some hidden talent you’d never told me about before.” 

“Can you imagine?” Hawke chuckles. “No... I just wanted the excuse to do this...” And with his large hands gripping his waist, he pulls Anders closer. 

Anders can't help it then; he smiles. There is a softness to Hawke’s demeanour, a warmth in him that Anders has come to realise is for him alone. He sees it now. Hawke still looks the part of the noble, handsomely dressed in his fine clothes, but he’s still Hawke. Anders shouldn’t have doubted it. He can’t doubt it, as Hawke smiles at him while they move slowly in time to the music. For now, at least, Anders swallows his fear and holds on tight. 


End file.
